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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239743">On the Bright Side, I’m Now the Carpet of a Sex God</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrealitycheck/pseuds/unrealitycheck'>unrealitycheck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inception (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Carpet POV, Crack, Diary/Journal, Inanimate Objects, Other, What am I doing with my life?, it is a rough road that leads to crackfic, writer’s block is a terrible thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,809</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrealitycheck/pseuds/unrealitycheck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Carpet™ somehow keeps a diary, featuring her intense attraction to Saito, her jealous hatred of Saito’s mistress, and her contempt for all things polyester. (And yeah, it’s as crazy as it sounds.)</p><p><b>Thursday, April 2<br/></b><br/>11:01 AM</p><p>Caught the Sex God staring at me. </p><p>Do I dare get my hopes up?</p><p>I mean, I like to <i>think</i> he was staring because my beautiful wool had stirred his passion, but I guess it could have also been a murderous stare. </p><p>I’ll probably never know. It’s not like he ever <i>talks</i> to me.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Saito/Carpet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On the Bright Side, I’m Now the Carpet of a Sex God</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>How do I even begin to explain this? I’m honestly not sure. I was moping around, bemoaning my writer’s block, thinking, “Alas! I’ll never be able to write again!” and then somehow I sat down and... this weird carpet diary came out? I’m still not really sure what happened, but I sure had a lot of fun giving the infamous carpet a personality. This rug is <i>crazy</i>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Sunday, March 22nd<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>10:00 AM</strong>
</p><p>So glad to be out of that stuffy warehouse. It was agony being packed in there with all the other carpet rolls, like furry sardines. This one carpet, named Rupert (total pervert) kept pretending to "accidentally" rub up against me whenever the warehouse workers stepped out for some air.</p><p>"Oops, sorry, Sheila," he'd say, right after his blue-and-gray striped fibers assaulted me from behind. "I'm so clumsy."</p><p>Hmph. Getting his disgusting polyester all over my wool. <em>Please</em>. As if Rupert is worthy of a fine wool carpet like myself.</p><p>But that's all over now. No more suffocating in that warehouse, getting rubbed on by polyester perverts. I'm installed in a nice place now, right on the floor of a so-called love nest. Not much light in this place, though. The master always keeps the curtains closed (I guess he likes his secrecy) and his mistress is always stabbing me with her heels, but at least there aren't any annoying pets pissing on me at inconvenient times.</p><p>Ah, the life of a carpet.</p><p>
  <strong>11:45 AM</strong>
</p><p>On the bright side, I'm now the carpet of a sex god.</p><p>
  <strong>12:18 AM</strong>
</p><p>And I mean it when I say SEX GOD. Holy shit.</p><p>This is a man who radiates power and pure manliness. Every time he walks across me on the expensive soles of his highly polished shoes, each one of my wool fibers starts to quiver in excitement. Oh, if only he would get closer to me!</p><p>But alas. He's sitting on the couch drinking wine with his mistress. (That bitch.) And then after they've both had a few, they'll get busy right on the couch, completely ignoring <em>me</em>. I mean, it's not like I actually <em>want</em> his mistress rolling all over me, but if it gives me the chance to feel the Sex God in all his naked glory, then bring it on.</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, March 24th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>1:10 PM</strong>
</p><p>I heard the Sex God tell his mistress he got a shag rug for his office.</p><p>Should I be jealous?</p><p>
  <strong>3:30 PM</strong>
</p><p>Mistress Stabby (due to those sharp heels she insists on wearing) is all alone watching soap operas from the couch, while eating popcorn that she occasionally drops on me. And she WON'T pick it up!</p><p>Who does this lazy bitch think she is? Now I've got six (I repeat, SIX) buttery pieces of popcorn staining my beautiful wool. It's times like these when I'd rather be back in the warehouse, with Rupert rubbing his stupid polyester on me.</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, March 25th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>8:52 AM</strong>
</p><p>A maid came by and cleaned me up. But I'm still pissed.</p><p>And I still smell like butter.</p><p><em>Fuck</em> Mistress Stabby.</p><p>
  <strong>9:00 AM</strong>
</p><p>Not literally, of course.</p><p>I'm still waiting for the day when the Sex God strips off his Armani suit and rests his stubbled cheek upon the soft fibers of my wool, caressing me softly until he's driven into a wild passion that makes him cry, "Oh, Sheila! Oh, Sheila!" and then he makes love to me with such strength that it takes his maid a solid three days to clean up the aftermath.</p><p>I wouldn't mind getting scrubbed within an inch of my life after a night like <em>that. </em></p><p>
  <strong>2:00 PM</strong>
</p><p>The Sex God still hasn't caressed me. I suspect he gives all his love to the shag rug in his office.</p><p>That BITCH.</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, March 30th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>9:24 PM</strong>
</p><p>What a horrible night.</p><p>Have spent the last hour listening to Mistress Stabby and the Sex God going at it in the bedroom. Mistress Stabby is <em>very</em> loud. Keeps screaming, "Saito! Oh, Saito! SAITO, YESSSSS!" like a fucking whore.</p><p>If I wasn't stuck to this floor, I'd shove her high heels up her butt.</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, April 1<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>1:30 PM</strong>
</p><p>They call today April Fools Day.</p><p>Guess who's the fool this time around?</p><p>Yeah, that's right. It's me. Can you believe I've actually spent this <em>whole</em> time wishing for the Sex God to rub his big, strong, manly self against my fibers?</p><p>Well today, he stepped into the love nest looking sexier than ever, making powerful strides in his shiny shoes. Mistress Stabby wasn't here and I thought to myself: <em>Finally! Today is the day I get the Sex God ALL to myself!</em></p><p>But then he looked down at me and his handsome face turned into a frown, and he scoffed, "I hate this carpet."</p><p>Then he turned on his heel and walked away!</p><p>I am dead. DEAD.</p><p>Somebody roll me up right now and toss me into the fucking trash.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, April 2<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>11:01 AM</strong>
</p><p>Caught the Sex God staring at me.</p><p>Do I dare get my hopes up?</p><p>I mean, I like to <em>think</em> he was staring because my beautiful wool had stirred his passion, but I guess it could have also been a murderous stare.</p><p>I'll probably never know. It's not like he ever <em>talks</em> to me.</p><p>
  <strong>12:48 PM</strong>
</p><p>Oh, God, can Mistress Stabby get any MORE annoying?</p><p>I hate it when the Sex God has to go to the office and leaves her here alone. (Does she know about the shag rug, by the way? I hope she does, the whore-faced bitch. It serves her right!)</p><p>Anyway, Mistress Stabby decided to practice her (awful) dance moves, while wearing her fucking heels. And guess who she danced all over?</p><p>I swear, if she managed to punch any holes through my backing, I will find some way to rise off this floor and suffocate her. How would you like to have a face full of WOOL, bitch?</p><p>
  <strong>2:00 PM</strong>
</p><p>Am still sore from all the various stab wounds I've probably suffered. Could really use a massage, but the maid won't be in to vacuum me until tomorrow morning. Damn it.</p><p>
  <strong>Saturday, April 4th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>10:55 AM</strong>
</p><p>Sometimes I lie here and contemplate all of the deep questions in life, such as:</p><p>Who let the dogs out?</p><p>Did the real Slim Shady ever stand up?</p><p>Do milkshakes really bring all the boys to the yard?</p><p>(Mistress Stabby has been listening to music all morning. But at least she hasn't started singing.)</p><p>
  <strong>11:07 AM</strong>
</p><p>I stand corrected.</p><p>Who knew the Thong Song could sound so HORRIBLE?</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, April 8th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>7:24 PM</strong>
</p><p>I swear I keep catching the Sex God glancing at me slyly from the corner of his eye. This is probably the twelfth time this week. What is going ON?</p><p>I'm pretty sure he still hates me. I can feel it radiating off of him the way he radiates power, manliness, and large quantities of Old Spice, but perhaps his hatred carries a hint of, dare I say... <em>desire</em>?</p><p>Wishful thinking, probably. He's off to the bedroom again with Mistress Stabby, right on motherfucking schedule. What in the hell does he see in her? She looks like a goat on steroids! And the only thing that could possibly improve her voice is shoving a nice fistful of wool fibers down her stupid throat. How would you like her then, Sex God?</p><p>HOW WOULD YOU LIKE HER THEN?</p><p>
  <strong>7:41 PM</strong>
</p><p>Cynthia, one of the carpets back at the warehouse, said that I have anger issues.</p><p>Sure, Cynthia, I've got issues.</p><p>I've <em>definitely</em> got issues. The issues even have names. They are called:</p><p>1. Mistress Stabby<br/>
2. Sex God Won't Make Love to Me<br/>
3. I've Got Butter Stains in Uncomfortable Places<br/>
4. There's a Shag Rug Somewhere That's Probably Getting Shagged<br/>
5. And That Rug Isn't ME</p><p>Can you blame me for being angry?</p><p>
  <strong>Saturday April 10th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>5:28 PM</strong>
</p><p>Okay, that's it. I know something's up.</p><p>I've been pretty quiet lately, watching and listening. The Sex God has been giving me the eye a <em>lot</em> these days, when Mistress Stabby's back is turned. Once, I thought he was almost going to reach out and touch me, but then he drew back his hand and I spent the next several hours burning with frustration.</p><p>Does the Sex God want me? Does he?</p><p>Oh please, universe, please tell me he wants me!</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, April 12th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>12:00 PM</strong>
</p><p>Heard a song on the radio today called "Love in This Club." Except I imagined the Sex God singing it to me and I changed the words:</p><p>
  <em>I wanna make love to this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I wanna make love to this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug<br/>
</em>
  <em>To this rug</em>
</p><p>Personally I think my version is much better. Suck it, Usher.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, April 14th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>1:11 PM</strong>
</p><p>Can you believe that not one, but TWO men are willing to sleep with Mistress Stabby? How she managed to snag both her husband <em>and </em>the Sex God is a mystery to me. She really is an ugly whore-faced goat.</p><p>She and the Sex God entered the love nest together, getting their hands all over each other like they hadn't just fucked the DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. I swear her heels were stabbier than ever. She was all giggling and whispering into the Sex God's ear, digging her stupid shoes into me, when her husband called her cell phone and said he wanted to see her.</p><p>Victory!</p><p>But it gets even better.</p><p>After Mistress Stabby left to see her husband, the Sex God spent a long time pacing back and forth. Then he did a shocking thing. He actually got down on his knees, so that the expensive fabric of his pants actually <em>touched</em> me. And then he lowered himself to the floor so that his <em>chest </em>was touching me. And THEN he rubbed his cheek against my wool.</p><p>HIS CHEEK!</p><p>I hope the maid never washes me again.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, April 15th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>8:43 AM</strong>
</p><p>The maid can suck my dick.</p><p>
  <strong>Saturday, April 16th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>3:27 PM</strong>
</p><p>Boo. The Sex God and Mistress Stabby are still together. Was hoping her husband caught wind of the affair and slowly dismembered her.</p><p>Had to listen to them going at it for about eighty years, and then when they were done, Mistress Stabby put her whore dress back on and slutted her way out. Why doesn't she just stay with her husband? I mean, I know the guy is out of town a lot and probably doesn't have enough time for her or whatever, but what does she need two men for? Some of us out there have zero men. ZERO. Probably because all the selfish BITCHES out there have snatched them up two at a time!</p><p>
  <strong>3:40 PM</strong>
</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Things just got better.</p><p>The Sex God rubbed his cheek on me <em>again</em>! And he purred at me. Actually <em>purred</em>. He said, "I greatly dislike you," in a voice so sultry, it made my panties fall right off.</p><p>Okay, I know I don't <em>wear</em> panties, but they would have fallen off if I did!</p><p>Is the Sex God speaking to me in a secret code? Is he trying to tell me he wants to make angry love to me?</p><p>
  <strong>4:22 PM</strong>
</p><p>I can still smell the lingering aroma of Old Spice and manliness. Too bad the maid's going to ruin it in the morning.</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, April 18th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>11:03 AM</strong>
</p><p>No.</p><p>No no no.</p><p>His attention is elsewhere! I can't fucking believe this! Just when I thought we were developing something special, the Sex God had to go and get distracted by some blue-eyed pretty boy with daddy issues.</p><p>Every time he comes to the love nest, it's Robert Fischer this and Robert Fischer that. Blah blah blah. What does he have that I don't? I bet rubbing up against him isn't <em>half</em> as fun as rubbing against my wool fibers.</p><p>
  <strong>12:56 PM</strong>
</p><p>The Sex God is still consumed by thoughts of Daddy Issues. Even Mistress Stabby is starting to get fed up with it. After the Sex God left, she locked herself in the bedroom and listened to the Sexyback Guy on repeat for about 17 million hours.</p><p>
  <strong>5:02 PM</strong>
</p><p>Apparently bringing sexy back does not include bringing the Sex God back. He called and said he'd be working tonight.</p><p>Damn you, Daddy Issues!</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, April 21st<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>9:45 AM</strong>
</p><p>A group of strangers showed up today while Mistress Stabby and the Sex God were out.</p><p>There were three of them: Mr. Squinty, Mr. Fancy Suit, and Mr. Dumb Architect.</p><p>Mr. Dumb Architect is dumb because he referred to me as a polyester carpet. <em>Polyester!</em> As if!</p><p>I have no idea what these men were doing here. Is the Sex God having affairs with <em>them </em>too? Mr. Squinty doesn't seem like much fun, but I wouldn't mind an evening with Mr. Fancy Suit. He's <em>delectable</em> looking. All starched and buttoned up like he means business, but I bet he can get wild once he's out of that suit. <em>Yeah.</em></p><p>But what am I saying? I still have a burning passion for the Sex God!</p><p>Bad Sheila. Bad! Stop looking at Mr. Fancy Suit!</p><p>
  <strong>10:00 AM</strong>
</p><p>Well, they all left. Not sure what <em>that</em> was about. They snapped a lot of pictures and spoke quietly, like the three of them were up to something. Ooh, maybe they're working for Mistress Stabby's husband? Is that bitch finally going to get what she deserves?</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, April 22nd<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>1:30 PM</strong>
</p><p>Go Sheila! It's your birthday! We're gonna party like it's your birthday!</p><p>No, I didn't get plowed by the Sex God (yet). But I did write an absolutely devastating rap that disses Mistress Stabby. Here it is:</p><p>All day and all night<br/>
I'm stuck to this floor<br/>
But you know what?<br/>
It sure beats being a whore<br/>
She's sighing and she's screaming and begging for more<br/>
When her husband just gave it to her good the night before<br/>
Do you like playing the field,<br/>
You two-timing slut?<br/>
I don't know what they see in you besides your tits and your butt<br/>
And it ain't that impressive<br/>
When you're struttin' your stuff<br/>
Shakin' that ass in the face of a powerful, robust<br/>
Kind of Sex God<br/>
Whose lust is for the finer things in life<br/>
And that don't include some other bastard's wife<br/>
'Cause when time's up, bitch,<br/>
He's gonna cast you aside<br/>
And you'll have to find some other man to take you for a ride<br/>
So get it while you can<br/>
While you still think you're hot<br/>
'Cause one of these days, whether you like it or not<br/>
You'll be gone, bitch<br/>
You'll be gone for good<br/>
Out the door, leaving the Sex God alone<br/>
In his bachelorhood<br/>
But he won't be alone, 'cause he's still got me<br/>
Rubbin' me, caressin' me<br/>
Lovin' every last wool-covered inch of me<br/>
And that's when you'll see<br/>
That's when you'll know it for real<br/>
That I'm the best damn thing<br/>
The Sex God will ever feel.</p><p>
  <strong>Saturday, April 24th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>11:26 AM</strong>
</p><p>I... I have no words.</p><p>This cannot be happening!</p><p>Did I honestly believe that Mistress Stabby was bad? Okay, she <em>is</em>, but there's someone worse. Someone much, much worse with a set of blue eyes that have hypnotized the Sex God.</p><p>You guessed it: Daddy Issues!</p><p>The Sex God announced that he is leaving for a while on business involving that blue-eyed prick! The Sex God isn't sure when he'll be back. Apparently it involves a number of international flights and a plan to expand his business. Which, okay, is fair enough, I guess. The Sex God <em>is</em> one of the world's most powerful businessmen and has every right to become king of the universe or whatever he's trying to do.</p><p>But does it have to involve <em>leaving </em>me?</p><p>That's it, I can't take this. I am dead. Just fucking <em>dead</em>.</p><p>
  <strong>Sunday, April 25th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>8:15 AM</strong>
</p><p>Still dead. Sex God hasn't come back.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, April 30th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>12:22 PM</strong>
</p><p>No Sex God.</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, May 4th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>4:34 PM</strong>
</p><p>I wish someone would throw me in the trash already. Just roll me up and throw me in the trash.</p><p>
  <strong>Saturday, May 8th<br/>
</strong>
  <strong>6:50 PM</strong>
</p><p>THE SEX GOD IS BACK.</p><p>AND HE FINALLY MADE LOVE TO ME.</p><p>I HAVE NO WORDS.</p><p>
  <strong>7:26 PM</strong>
</p><p>Okay, I'm a little more coherent now. Let me tell you about the greatest night of my life.</p><p>The Sex God came to the love nest<em>, alone</em>, without Mistress Stabby giggling all over him and jabbing her heels into me. He immediately lay on the floor with his face pressed against my wool, whispering sweet sentiments that didn't make a whole lot of sense, but were sweet nonetheless. Something about dreams and planting an idea and victory?</p><p>I don't know. I don't care. Because NEXT, he unbuttoned his expensive black pants and gave me a rub-down more intense than ten thousand carpet cleaners.</p><p>
  <em>Ohhh, yeahhhh.</em>
</p><p>I am one happy carpet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was heavily inspired by the <i>Confessions of Georgia Nicolson</i> and <i>Princess Diaries</i> series. The rap, on the other hand, came entirely out of my own crazy head. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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